Oh. My. Gods.

“No,” Nicole answers, rolling her eyes at Troy. “Only the gods can revoke powers.”

“But my parents could ground them until I’m twenty-one.”

“Come on, Travatas,” Nicole says. “Grow some courage and confess. I hear it’s good for the soul.”

“I appreciate that you guys care,” he says in a way that suggests he doesn’t appreciate it at all, “but I have to handle this my way.”

“Fine,” Nicole says with a shrug. “Don’t say we didn’t try. Now, can we talk about how we’re going to get back at Blake and the evil twins?”

I knew this was going to come up again. Ever since I told her what happened she’s been pressing me to go after revenge-a revenge that I know wouldn’t be just about me.

But revenge is hollow. I’d prefer amnesia.

“I don’t want revenge,” I tell Nicole for like the fiftieth time. “I just want to forget about it and never talk about them again.”

Just because I live in the same house as Stella doesn’t mean I have to talk to her. The last few dinners have been blissfully silent.

It doesn’t hurt that I threatened to tell Damian what she did. The thought of another week without her powers is apparently enough to keep her quiet.

Though she did leave an empty latte cup outside my door.

“I can understand not bothering with Stella and Adara…”

Nicole lifts up her hamburger bun and gives the contents a wary look. “… they’ve been hideous harpies since the day I got here.”

She drops the bun and pushes her plate away.

“Longer,” Troy adds. “Those two have been up to no good since they were five. We can’t expect them to change now.”

“But Griffin,” Nicole says.

“Yeah.” Troy’s eyes light up. “Blake deserves to be taken down a notch or two.”

“I could do a few heinous things to him without losing sleep.”

Nicole clearly harbors serious feelings of resentment over whatever happened between her and Griffin in the past. I’m not about to let her thirst for revenge push me into action.

“No,” I say definitively. “I don’t want to do anything to any of them. No revenge. Got it?”

Humiliation is bad enough. I just want to forget about it and move on.

I look at each of them, waiting for verbal consent.

Reluctantly, Troy nods his head. “Fine.”

Nicole, on the other hand, is cagier. “No promises.” When I stare her down, she adds, “But I’ll leave you out of whatever I do. Okay?”

I say, “Okay.”

Still, I’m a little worried.

Nicole can be unpredictable-if she can zap away my ankle without a second thought, who knows what revenge she’s going to exact on Griffin. If he weren’t the scum of the earth-and I didn’t know she couldn’t actually kill him-I might feel inclined to warn him.

I manage to steer clear of Stella until dinner on Tuesday before the race. Since she finally decides to dine with the rest of us and I’m focused on properly fueling my body for the week, I guess there’s no way to avoid sharing the meal with her.

“Evening, Daddy.” She plants a big kiss on his cheek. “Valerie.”

She nods to Mom. Then sits down, not acknowledging me.

Damian glances at each of us over a spoonful of bean soup.

“No greeting for your sister?” he asks before finishing his bite.

“Good evening, Phoebe.” She smiles falsely. “I’m not sure I can eat a bite-I had a big latte for lunch.”

That’s it. Pushing back from the table, I knock my chair over as I lunge across the table. “You little-”

“Phoebe!” Mom shouts, jumping up and clearly prepared to stop me.

I freeze, my knee poised over the table, ready to launch into Stella’s smirking lap. Knowing they’ll never let me actually get away with throttling her at the dinner table I lower back into my seat.

“What is this about?” Mom asks once I’ve calmed down.

“Why don’t you ask the ice queen over there?” I snap.

Stella schools her features into a look of pure innocence. “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Listen, girls,” Mom begins. “Whatever’s bothering you, it will be better if you talk it out. We will all be living in the same house for the next year, and-”

“Nine months.” I think it’s important to be clear when it comes to details.

That earns me a mom look. “There is always a period of adjustment when families combine.”

“Her face could use an adjustment.”

“Phoebe,” Mom gasps.

Stella crosses her arms across her chest and raises one eyebrow.

“I’d like to see you try.”

“Stella,” Damian warns, “do not make the situation worse.”

“Damian,” Mom says, moving behind him and placing her hands on his shoulders. “Why don’t we leave the girls alone for a few minutes,” she suggests. “I’m sure they would rather discuss their problem without an audience.”

Damian looks like he wants to argue, but lets Mom lead him to the kitchen anyway. Just before they disappear out the back door, he looks over his shoulder and gives Stella a stern look that clearly says, “Work this out. Now.”

Hey, I was willing to forgive and-well, not forgive, but forget anyway. But she has to keep throwing it in my face with the whole I’m-so-full-on-my-latte thing.

“I have no idea what your problem is,” she says, casually taking a sip of her water. “Your attitude is really quite awful.”

“My attitude?” I gasp. “You’re the one who-”

“Still crying the same old song, Phoebe? Let it go.”

“Let it go?” She is so full ofI stand up slowly and calmly and say in as steady a voice as possible, “Listen. You made that awful bet with Adara. You tricked me into helping you win that awful bet. You let me believe-”

Oh no, I can feel the tears tightening up my throat. Not good. Itake a calming breath. I’ve decided on brutal honesty at this point, there’s no stopping now.

“I actually started to believe that Griffin liked me- me, the lowly little nothos -when no one else in your high and mighty cliques would do more than look at me with scorn.” I blink against the tears now filling my eyes. “And the worst part is that I was actually starting to like him, the real him. Or at least what I thought was the real him. And come to find out he was only playing a part, too.”

That’s what hurts the most. Not the bet or the deal or any of that.

It’s that they’re right about me. I really am so weak that I would fall for a guy who’d done nothing but treat me like scum since I got to this stupid school without even putting up much of a fight.

I’m pathetic, and that’s what really hurts.

“Phoebe,” Stella says, an unnatural softness to her usually icy voice.

I’m prepared for a scathing comment.

Instead, she walks around the table to stand right in front of me, and says, “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how much-” She shakes her head and starts again. “I know how much unrequited love can hurt.

If I had known you had any real feeling for him…”

I am floored beyond belief. Stella is exhibiting real honest-togoodness sympathy, an emotion I believed her incapable of.

That, and she’s apologized.